Where is Love?
by Cafe Au Liet
Summary: Roy, Viscount Mustang, has set off to find a wife. He has his eye on a young woman who just happens to be Miss Riza Hawkeye's younger sister- and Riza Hawkeye will not have her sister marry just any man- he's got to prove himself. AU Royai.
1. Chapter 1

Here's another of my hair-brained ideas. I got inspiration from another romance book. This time a historical romance by Julia Quinn. It will be similar in some ways, but I intend to twist things up a bit. :) Once again, a prologue thing. Hope you enjoy. C:

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><p>#<p>

The Viscount Mustang feared only one thing in life. It was a secret fear, and he would have died before anyone found out. For his fear was of love, described by poets as sweet and gentle, generous and blind... Love, and the tragedy that ultimately befell anyone who was stupid enough to fall into it.

Take, for example, his own parents. The late Viscount Mustang, also named Roy, had gone against the wishes of the dowager viscountess, his mother and married a girl of undistinguished blood. In fact, she was a foreigner, a daughter of one of the Xing merchants who crossed the desert and landed in the East. Xue'an was in fact a maid, and it was a sort of cinderella story, how she became the Viscountess Mustang.

They had certainly been in love, from what Roy heard from Chris Mustang Mas, his foster mom and his father's younger sister. But there was that accident, on the way to the summer residence in Risembool, which left two-year-old Roy Mustang the second an orphan and the new Viscount Mustang.

Then there was Chris herself. She had married the man she loved at the expense of her position in society. Her parents had thrown a fit, and had threatened disownment if she married John Mas, the poor stable boy. Chris had a good ten years of love and many, many daughters, until her husband passed away due to consumption. Her brother Roy, who had, sometime in those ten years, received the title, had taken her in and recognized her as his sister, to their mother's displeasure. A more independent widow there had never been, but anyone could see the loneliness in her dark brown eyes.

Now there Roy was, almost thirty years to his name, attending the funeral of his best friend. He had met Maes Hughes in university, and there they had become inseparable. Maes, a member of the police force, could be annoying, but he was the epitome of a husband and a father. He cared very much for Gracia, his wife, and Elicia, their only daughter. Why had he been murdered? Hughes was the nosiest man Roy had ever known, and the latter feared that the former had stuck his nose into something he shouldn't have. Nevertheless, Roy promised the body in front of him that he would care for Gracia and Elicia, for his sake.

He figured it couldn't be a coincidence, what with it occurring everywhere he looked. He figured that the other married couples he knew weren't really in love. Or maybe they were, and they were just blissfully ignorant of the inevitable,of the threat of separation that loomed over them. Because love surely brought a person weakness, and that was when fate attacked.

His best friend's death just rekindled the fire to an even brighter flame. It ignited and doubled his fear, so to speak. Because truly, had there been a happier marriage than the Hughes's one?

And so Roy, Viscount Mustang, resolved not to bring upon him or his future wife (well, he'd have to take one, in order to keep the Mustang line going) any unnecessary heartache or woe. He would never, ever, marry for romantic love- whatever that was.

#

"Winry," Riza Hawkeye walked into the small rented drawing room and called the attention of her half-sister, "how many times have I told you to be careful with your correspondence? Ink stains very easily on white gloves, and you know we can't replace them very easily."

Winry, who at seventeen was four years younger than her sister, looked at the gloves in Riza's hands abashedly. "I'm sorry, Ri. I'll be sure to remove my gloves next time I...write."

"It's alright. It's a good thing you got them on your white gloves, we can have them bleached, and hopefully that will get the stains out." Riza gave her a smile that was meant to reassure.

Sara Hawkeye, Winry's mother, and Riza's step mother for almost nineteen years looked up from her own novel and said, "Don't worry, Riza. I know a trick to get those out, here, give them to me."

The late Baron Hawkeye had always done his best as a husband and as a father to his two girls, but he could provide only so much financially, compared to when he was alive. Riza had always known that since her father passed five years ago, things had been tight. That was the main reason she, at the age of twenty-one, was on her first season out in society. She'd had to go together with Winry, because the cost of renting a place in Central city (where most members of society spent the season) and other living expenses had taken about five years to save up for. And if the girls were not able to marry well, then Sara and her daughters would probably live together in the country as prudently as they could.

No, that was wrong. It would probably be Sara and Riza, or maybe only Riza. Winry was doing well, attracting many a suitor here and there. Winry was petite, with large blue eyes and light blonde hair. She was classically beautiful, and very well the apple of everybody's eye. The only thing that made men cower away was her lack of dowry. But if Winry were able to marry a man of decent means, they might be able to take Sara in too. Riza could never impose on her future brother-in-law, and would probably end up living back in the East by herself.

Riza hadn't much hope for herself. She was twenty-one, nearing spinsterhood, and men tended to go for the younger ones. It didn't help that she was often referred to only as "Winry Hawkeye's older sister". While Winry was fair and blue-eyed, Riza had darker blonde hair, and reddish-brown eyes. She was taller than most women, but even then not half as noticeable as the others. Riza Hawkeye was not conventionally pretty. She was quite plain, and she knew it.

That's why she's devoted herself to finding the right man for her younger sister, and not for herself. After all, who would want to marry her?

#


	2. Chapter 2

Real life has been busy. So I'm really sorry. I'll do my best to update this, but I don't think you should expect anything more than once a month.

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><p>"Man, you can really drink. Slow down there, Mustang." Mr. Jean Havoc tutted. "Hughes is probably frowning at you right now."<p>

Roy was in his study having a much-needed drink, when Havoc, another good friend from university, called upon him. Havoc was the slightly irresponsible younger son of an earl. Without warning, his butler had let the visitor into his private study, and the tall blond did not waste his time in snatching a glass from the table and pulling up a chair. Needless to say why, Roy downed the rest of the drink in his hand.

"I wanted to be left alone, Havoc," Roy muttered, knowing it would be useless to protest. Hughes had been his closest confidant, but Havoc was the most loyal man he had ever befriended, ins pite of the latter's commitment issues with women. Jean Havoc would never leave him be, just as Hughes never did, back when he was alive. Roy wondered if he were an idiot-magnet sometimes. His friends just loved to drive him crazy.

"I know. But you shouldn't be," Havoc replied as a matter-of-factly. "Who knows what you do when you're alone. Maes wouldn't want you like this, you know."

"Yeah, well, what would his advice be?" Roy asked as he poured Havoc a drink.

"He'd probably tell you to go get a wife, but..."

"Right. How come you were never on the receiving end of that?"

Havoc shrugged. "He knew that I loved my bachelor status too much, I guess."

Roy's lips drew into a smirk for the first time that week. "He had probably given up on you ever getting someone to marry you, given your luck with women."

"Hey, I resent that." But Havoc smiled. He had gotten a glimpse of the old Roy. Roy had had to straighten out things for his friend, and then there was Gracia and Elicia. The week following the murder of Officer Maes Hughes had been especially hard on him. "But really. Maes would hate to see you depressed like this. He'd tell you to enjoy life, stop and smell the flowers..."

"Maybe I should follow his advice."

"Smell the flowers? Oh but it's kind of dark out-"

"No, I mean, getting myself a wife," Roy clarified.

Havoc went slack-jawed for a second before he burst out guffawing. "You? A wife? Roy, Viscount Mustang, perpetual womanizer? Boy, that is rich. I can't wait 'til Breda and the others hear about this."

The skin between Roy's eyebrows scrunched up. "I'm being perfectly serious." He wasn't a womanizer. Sure he enjoyed the company of women now and then, but never gently-bred young ladies. Sure he was known as a rake, but not a debaucher of innocents. Many an actress or widow had come to his bed, but they had all known what they'd been getting into. Roy have never dallied with a lady. Anyone who could actually demand marriage. He had his fun, but as the Viscount Mustang grew older, he realized he had his duties to attend to, as Lord of the Mustang estates and all the tenants on the land. So the fun was gradually toned down and only now and then did he keep a mistress, but his reputation stuck. Society would forever whisper about Roy Mustang's swoon-inducing smile and slippery charm.

Havoc still sported a goofy grin on his face, though at least he'd stopped laughing. "Right," he conceded. "It was his most frequent request, might as well be his last wish for you."

"I was thinking of getting around to it. My grandmother has been hinting heavily about me begetting an heir to the title," Roy explained, frowning. "Who's the most popular girl of the season? No, scratch that, who's the most sensible girl of the season?"

If he were looking for a wife, she would need to fulfill a few things on his list.

First, she'd have to be passably pretty. Though looks didn't matter much, it would be a nice bonus. Second, she'd have to be smart. There was nothing that peeved him more than engaging in a conversation with the more...unintelligent young ladies of the ton. They seemed to think stupid was the way to go if they wanted to attract men, but Roy didn't find it attractive at all. Third, she would be someone he wouldn't fall in love with. Because he knew exactly how that went, and really, he didn't want his children to go trough the same thing as he did. Nor did he want to leave the burden of single-parenthood to his wife. And vice versa. The thought of raising children by himself disheartened him thoroughly.

"Hmm...Miss Winry Hawkeye is by far the most popular among the men, and she doesn't seem too bad. I mean, I've engaged her in conversation once or twice, and she really didn't give off the twittering floaty airhead vibes that women seem to think appeal to us men. She actually seems sensible. Then there's Miss Rose Thomas, third daughter of the Marquis of Reole-"

"Hawkeye...daughter of anyone we know?" Roy inquired, leaning forward over his desk.

"They say her father was a country gentleman who passed away about five years ago, and is survived by his two daughters. Ms. Winry's the younger one. She's inherited her mother's good looks, but well...her lack of dowry isn't appealing to some of the gentlemen."

"Perfect. She's obviously in need of a man with a fortune, and I'm in need of a wife."

Havoc gawked. "Is that your only prerequisite?"

"Well, no. But it makes it easier for me to convince her of this arrangement if she benefits from it," Roy said, his tone very much as-a-matter-of-fact.

"By 'convincing her of this arrangement', would you happen to mean, proposing marriage to her?" The blond face-palmed, before adding: "God you're unromantic."

Roy raised an eyebrow at his friend. "This, coming from the man dumped too many times to count.

Jean frowned. "Well...all I can say is good luck. You know how women want it- romance and stuff. And I've heard her older sister is a complete dragon when it comes to guarding her sister..."

#

"It's not that I don't like him, he was just so intent on getting you alone, I-"

"You don't like him, Riza. And neither do I. You're right, he was getting kind of creepy," Winry smiled as soon as they reached the ladies' room. It was to be a long night of revelry at the residence of the Duke and Duchess Armstrong.

"I just don't want you to think I'm hindering you in any way-"

"Boy, you really got affected by Lady Douglas' comment. 'Dragon-like guardian', and for my sake?" Winry giggled. "You can be over-protective at times, but I trust your judgment. That's why I told everyone I wouldn't ever marry if you didn't approve of my choice," she continued nonchalantly, as she started to powder her face.

"You said what?" Riza asked, finally getting a full sentence in. "Winry, did you really? No wonder they're all calling me a dragon."

"Well, you're a majestic dragon, Riza. Beautiful too. And you did save me from that rude man earlier."

"I thought you'd needed a break." Riza leaned against the sink. "And...since men tend to avoid spinsters-to-be like the plague, I guess it will be fun to breathe fire on them. What kind of men do you like anyway?" she asked her younger sister.

"I...well, looks don't matter much to me, but he can't be too old or lecherous. He's got to be intelligent and caring...he'd stand up for what he believed in, and...he'd let me have a considerable amount of freedom to do things I'd like to do," Winry said contemplatively, inspecting herself in the mirror. She was dressed in a lovely sky blue frock that matched her eyes. "How about you?"

"Me? What are you asking that for?" Riza scoffed as she brushed away a stray lock of hair that hung over her forehead. "We all know I've no hope. No one will be asking for my hand anytime soon, if my eternal wallflower status has anything to say about it."

"No, you're not going to be a spinster, Riza!" Winry turned to her sister. "You're a perfectly good woman, and all those men are gutless idiots for not approaching you," she shot out vehemently. "You'll find someone. Someone you'll love for the rest of your life. Someone who'll love you for the rest of his life."

Riza walked over to the door. "If only..." she said to herself, very quietly. "Well, since you asked...I'd like someone who would...treat me as an equal. He'd listen to me and to my opinions. Also, he'd be very considerate, of anyone, even the lowliest ragamuffin."

"Our expectations aren't very high, are they?" Winry whispered laughingly as she followed her sister. "I do hope we find them though. Our dream men, I mean."

"Given the array of men out there, I don't know how likely that is," Riza almost snorted. "Now, go on. You shouldn't keep your dance partners waiting." Winry's attention was almost immediately whisked away by the crowd of men who had found her.

Riza went to join the chaperones and widows near the back. It wasn't as if she were jealous of her sister. Winry was just prettier and more graceful than she could ever dream to be- that was almost a fact of life, like how the sun rose in the east and set in the west. In fact, she didn't think she'd like to have the burden of having to marry to provide for her mother and her sister. She'd often assured Winry that she didn't have to marry anybody she didn't love just for Sara's and her sake. It would be perfectly fine if she didn't choose anyone and they could all just go back to the country. Together.

A bit later, Riza excused herself from the conversation with a kindly maiden aunt of a debutante and an aging widow to quench her thirst. She scanned the room, taking in the colorful frocks that the attendees of the soiree were sporting and at the general grandeur of the event. She felt somewhat out of place in her plain dark blue dress.

She only had to take a few steps before being offered a glass of juice by a manservant in the slightly loud purple livery of those under the Armstrong's employ. She took it gratefully and continued on her way to where she had last seen Sara, which was at the edge of the dance floor.

"Sara," Riza greeted as soon as she was within hearing distance, but her stepmother seemed too distracted to notice.

"Riza," she answered after barely sparing a glance at her stepdaughter. It was obvious in the way her lips turned up at the sides that she was trying her best to conceal her excitement.

Riza turned her attention to where Sara's gaze was directed at. It was Winry, waltzing with a handsome man Riza didn't recognize. His dark hair was slicked back, complementing a clean-shaven face. He was not extraordinarily tall for a man, but Winry still looked like a little porcelain doll in his arms.

Riza smiled for her sister was obviously enjoying herself with gentleman who looked to be in his late twenties. The skirt of her dress swished around his legs, which were clad in black pants that matching his charcoal jacket. They made a handsome couple, and everyone seemed to notice them, sneaking glances and whispering about, albeit a bit conspicuously.

"Who is that, dancing with Winry?" she'd finally asked.

Sara beamed as she spared another fleeting glance at Riza. "That's the viscount."

Riza's eyes widened and she almost let go of the crystal in her hand. "The Viscount Mustang? Please tell me it's some other viscount." She looked over to the man again- he was well-built, with handsome Xingese-like features. He was also smiling down charmingly at Winry, whom he was holding entirely too close.

Sara nodded, unmindful of her daughter's horror-stricken expression.

"She shouldn't be dancing with him!" Riza sputtered uncharacteristically. "Not him!"

Sara looked at her, puzzled. "And why not? He seemed very decent, really, when I was introduced to him earlier."

"But you know what everyone says about him! They say he's the worst kind of rake," she whispered harshly.

"I really find those rumors hard to believe," Sara replied, looking at Riza rather curiously. "He didn't seem like a rake to me. In fact, he was very polite."

"Well of course he would be polite to you, Sara!"

Sara looked slightly disapproving, but it was hard when her lips were twitching into a smile. She was obviously amused by her daughter. "You really shouldn't judge a man by the rumors you hear about him, it isn't like you, Riza."

"I've learned that it's better to be wary of men, especially when they're interested in Winry." Riza frowned and the skin between her brows crinkled. "They did say that he was polite, and charming, and all those other things, but they'd also mentioned that he'd-"

Sara suddenly interrupted her with, "Oh, Riza, aren't you having the grandest time?"

And Riza could only blink in surprise until Sara gamely exclaimed, "Why, my lord, how nice to see you again!" Slowly, and very, very, warily, Riza turned around. It was a man with jet-black hair and eyes that seemed even darker.

"I should say the same, Mrs. Hawkeye. I'd like to compliment your daughter, she's quite the graceful dancer. I almost didn't want to give her up for the next dance," the tall stranger spoke in a low voice that Riza could not help but find attractive. But he wasn't a stranger. He had been Winry's dance partner just a minute ago.

"Why, thank you, Lord Mustang," Sara replied, which confirmed Riza's worst fears. Roy, Viscount Mustang, turned his attention to Riza and proceeded to give her a self-confident smile.

"Oh, please excuse my rudeness. This is my eldest daughter, Elizabeth," Sara introduced. "Riza, this is the Viscount Mustang."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Ms. Hawkeye," Roy acknowledged.

Riza started to open her mouth, but she knew she couldn't lie to him outright and say she was particularly pleased to meet _him_. "Good evening, my lord," she said, rather graciously, she thought, and held out her hand just to be polite.

Roy noticed her discomfort, but brushed a light kiss across her gloved knuckles nonetheless. Hmph, she was probably nervous to be around him. "You are as lovely as your sister," he said...and immediately realized it was the wrong thing to say.

Riza stiffened and she pulled her hand back a little too sharply. Her eyes were narrowed. She'd seen it earlier, the surprise in his eyes, when he'd learned that she was Winry's famous older sister. It wasn't anything new. Many people who were introduced to her after meeting Winry had the same look in their eyes. At least he didn't get the look of disappointment that frequently followed. So what if she wasn't a delicate beauty like her sister? She _knew_ that she wasn't.

And Mustang had the nerve to lie to her face, to tell her she was as _lovely_ as _Winry_. Lovely! She didn't think he could have insulted her more gravely.

#

He'd been surprised to find out that the tall woman was related to Sara and Winry Hawkeye as she looked so glaringly different from her sister. Winry had been petite, whereas Riza Hawkeye was almost a head taller. Winry had her mother's blue eyes and delicate features while Riza had a reddish-brown gaze and striking features. In fact, the only thing they similarly had was the blond hair- and even that was different.

Roy had been told that Winry's sister was tall and not as fine-featured, but that was only in comparison with Winry. Elizabeth Hawkeye, or Riza, as her mother called her, wasn't bad-looking, not at all. Her red eyes were piercing, and she wasn't monstrously tall. Besides, Winry could never be _that_ voluptuous.

But Elizabeth's eyes darkened considerably at his comment. They now seemed blazing. He shouldn't have likened her to her sister. It was the one compliment she wouldn't have believed.

Sara seemed to notice Riza's hostility, but before she could say anything, another voice joined in on the conversation. "Have you been enjoying the evening, Mustang?"

The three turned in the voice's direction, to an even taller blond man. "Havoc," Mustang grunted. This was so not a good time. "Mrs. Hawkeye, Miss Hawkeye, this is Mr. Jean Havoc. Havoc, Mrs. Sara Hawkeye and her daughter, Elizabeth."

Havoc greeted them both, adding to Sara: "You must be Winry Hawkeye's mother as well. You've got a beautiful set of daughters." He glanced at Riza appreciatively.

Even Roy admitted that was a better way to phrase it. _Not- You're as lovely as your sister_.

Havoc snuck a glance at Roy and smirked. Roy almost cursed. Havoc had just had to overhear his faux-pass. The mischievous blond grinned as he returned his attention to the two ladies in front of him. "I'm a bit thirsty, would anyone like to accompany me to get a few refreshments?"

Riza glanced at the drink in her hand, and so did Roy and Jean. Sara on the other hand, smiled. "Why, Mr. Havoc, that would be nice. All this conversation has made me quite parched."

Jean's grin widened. "I'd love your company, Mrs. Hawkeye. I shall introduce you to my mother on the way, too. Mustang, why don't you dance this next song with Miss Hawkeye?"

"I-" Mustang started, just as Riza said. "I'm sure he has already has a partner."

Roy didn't like the condescending tone of her voice. "No, I'm free for this dance."

"But such a charming man couldn't possibly be without a partner," Riza retorted, her tone just a tad bit sarcastic. But really, a rake would not have anything to do with girls like Riza if they could help it.

Havoc could not help but butt in. "But I'm sure Roy would love to dance this with you, Miss Hawkeye."

"I-" Riza was interrupted when Roy grabbed ahold of her waist and steered her towards the middle of the dance floor. "Please, dance with me, Miss Elizabeth, before you make a fool out of yourself."

Riza's cheeks colored with indignation. "I was just concerned about you, my lord," she almost hissed. "I didn't think you'd want to be stuck dancing with the likes of me. Also, I don't remember giving you the permission to use my given name."

"Why do you hate me so, Miss Hawkeye?" he emphasized the last two words as he pulled her closer to him, just a tad too roughly.

"I don't hate you, my lord. I don't even know you," she spoke evenly, looking up at him.

"Knowing is rarely a prerequisite for hating," he stated. "You're obviously feeling hostile. Are always like this?"

"Only towards the idiots who come to me looking for approval of their intentions towards my sister."

"I'm not one of them, I'll have you know."

Riza arched an eyebrow. "You haven't come to seek my blessing?"

"No, I'm not an idiot," Roy clarified with a grin. Riza had to admit that up close, his smile was even more devastating. "But I am," he continued, "one of your sister's suitors."

Riza rolled her eyes. "Your behavior towards me isn't very indicative of that."

"Who says that I need you approval, Miss Hawkeye?" Roy asked audaciously.

"Winry does," Riza replied, somewhat triumphantly.

Roy adopted an expression of reflection- "Hm...in that case, I had better improve your opinion on me, shouldn't I?"


End file.
